My Blood
by writersblxck
Summary: "My bones will bleach, my flesh will flee. So help my lifeless frame to breathe." When she finds herself in the worst situation, there's only one person she can call.
1. Chapter 1

**¡Hola! Most of y'all know me from a separate acc (or from twitter) but this is a completely different angle for me so please don't hesitate to lmk what you think! I'd really appreciate it :) and I'm gonna keep anon (unless y'all guess lmao) for this acc but I'm only a DM away if anything!**

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I can't think of anything worse after a night of drinking than waking up next to someone, and not being able to remember their name.  
Or how you met.  
Or why they're dead.

* * *

I knew one thing was for sure: I wasn't going to scream. My line of work meant I was _pretty_ familiar with death, dead bodies, a stupid amount of blood and such. (Not that there was a lot of blood this time.) So, I wasn't going to scream.  
Being familiar with that though, I knew he had to be dead. I knew that just by looking at him, but just to be sure- I had to be sure- I held my shaky fingers under his nostrils for a minute.  
Definitely no air coming outta there. The dude was dead.  
I held my own breath; who am I even trying to be quiet for? And turned over, swinging my legs from the bed.  
If you could call it a bed. The surface I'd been lying on was merely a mangled piece of furniture and it suddenly repulsed me. I flung free from my now seated position and stood on the hard flooring. I twisted my waist from side to side, keeping my feet where they were. Remember I said it was a _mangled_ piece of furniture? Right now I could feel it in my back and I winced at the cracking sound that came from my muscles.  
God knows how long I'd been lying there, but it must have been a while. My body could feel it, I was stiff.  
Still glued to my spot, I took in the unfamiliar surroundings of the room I was in. It was dark: the New York sunrise not yet gracing the sky but it was warm already. There was nothing much in the room either: the _bed_ , a dark closet and a small table by the bed headrest. A worn-out rug on the floor. Blinds doing their best to keep light out of the room, but kinda slanted so they weren't actually doing a good job. Still, it was probably to my advantage that it was still dark: it meant I couldn't see the actual state of the room.  
And I was pretty sure I didn't want to.  
My feet suddenly remembered how to walk and I tiptoed forwards from the 'bed' just now realizing how much I was shaking. A cold shudder took over my body as I walked across the floorboards.

First things first, I had to think logically. This was _not_ my apartment. I knew that at least. Sure, I'd only been in New York for a couple of months but this wasn't the spacious bright apartment I'd rented. This was anything but that. And I didn't _know_ the man who was occupying the bed. Well, the body. Who was he? And how had he got there, um, how had I got here? What the hell happened last night?

Did I … kill him?

I found myself holding my breath as I walked towards the window. There was something strange about this apartment- and it wasn't just that there was a dead man in the room. It felt … like I shouldn't be here. Jeez, I almost wanted to laugh at my thoughts. _Of course I shouldn't be here. Duh._

The wooden floor was hard and cold beneath my feet. I could hear the creaking floorboards too, but that wasn't a big concern to me. It didn't need to be, who was going to hear? If there was only one resident in this apartment, he wasn't gonna be hearing anything. I hated the feel of my bare toes on the wood though, if I was at home at least I'd be in the slippers Burgess has given me last Christmas.

Burgess.

Even living in a different city didn't take the memories of my old unit away from me. The unit. My family. The ones that were there for me through everything. I was staring out of the window, couldn't see anything without the sun being there yet.

Had moving away from Chicago been the right decision for me? What would have happened if-

No. Not today, I'm not thinking about that today. I had to focus on the task in hand.

The blinds didn't work. I tried to tackle them, to get them to open but they wouldn't budge. Well, it wasn't the end of the world I suppose. Maybe it was better that they stayed closed.

I stared out of the slanted blinds until the sun came up. I couldn't tell you how long I stood there, it could have been five minutes but it could have been fifty. That's my downfall in situations like this: I don't know what to do right away. Especially when I'm alone.  
What am I talking about? I can't say _in situations like this_ when I've never been in a situation like this! Well apart from that time when I…- oh, but that doesn't bare thinking about.

I found my feet again and walked towards the door. The strange thing about it was it didn't stand out from the rest of the room. If I hadn't found the door handle quickly, I could have been searching for the door for a hell of a lot longer. It was almost as though… someone has purposely painted over it to camouflage it not to be found.

The handle was cold beneath my fingertips which was weird, the room itself was pretty warm. My fingers curled underneath the handle and I pulled the door towards me.

Outside the room was even darker, there wasn't even a window in the hallway. I fumbled along the wall for a light switch but I couldn't find one. There wasn't even a rail to hang on to so I knew I was in an apartment. Or a bungalow. Either way, there was no stairs. I tried my luck with the door adjacent to the one I'd just come out of, but it was locked. Damn. If only I could remember how I'd gotten here in the first place, then maybe I had more chance of finding my way out.

The trouble was though, I couldn't. Which automatically told me, something odd _must_ have happened. I was a girl who could hold my own, when I'd had a drink of course I knew the limits. I knew when to stop.

I knew, I knew, I knew.

I also knew that last night _had_ been a night out with people from the FBI, the people I'd been working with for the past month. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I didn't want to go it's just…

They're not my family, they're not. And somehow I knew it would be like that. After all, I'd been with the CPD for a long time. Longer than I'd like to admit, sometimes.

So it wasn't in my best interests to miss a night in the bar with my new squad. Because I had to get to know them, if I was gonna make this job a real thing. Which it had to be, if I was going to keep my promise…

I'd planned to go out for a 'few' drinks and then going back to the apartment, grabbing a pizza and throwing myself on the couch. It was better than giving the new team the knock-back on the first night they'd tried to socialize with me. That way, I couldn't say I didn't try.

But that's not the way things worked out, is it?

No. I'm not in my own apartment, I'm not alone and I'm not even able to remember the events of last might. Maybe if I could figure out where I am, I could trigger my memory.

Both doors to my left and right were locked, there was no way I was getting access to them without a fight. I'd have to kick down the doors or something, something I'd usually be down for. Even that was strange: it felt like I didn't have the energy to kick down a single door. Not like me. At all.

And now I thought about it, I didn't feel good. My body felt extremely heavy and it was as though I could throw up at any second. I can't blame the drink, alcohol, whatever I drank (or ate) last night. Because that was one of the reasons I was so popular at my last unit: one to keep up with the guys. I could probably drink you under the table.

Feeling this weird told me something happened last night against my will. And it pissed me off that I couldn't remember what the hell it was.

At last, a bathroom. It seemed to be the only door that wasn't locked on this level. The furthest door away from me, and the only one that I had access to. I turned the doorknob and my feet found the cold tiles.

The stench inside had me throwing myself against the toilet bowl as soon as I got inside. I'd say I'm pretty familiar with things that don't smell great but this was something else. And I couldn't even describe what it was… there's no words. It's as though rotting flesh, a million garbage disposals and a tonne of dog shit came together to fill my nostrils. Even the thought of it… let's just say it was little wonder that the contents of whatever was in my stomach threw itself into the toilet bowl.

It's pretty gross to think about, but the thought crossed my mind that I could find a clue to what occurred last night if I looked down at what I'd just thrown up. That turned out to be a big mistake: if I had eaten anything twelve hours ago, there was no evidence of it. Fuck. I didn't even know where to start.

Just the thought of not being able to trace last night's steps was enough to make me throw up again. I wiped the back of my hand against my mouth, then ran my fingers across my brow.

I knelt against the cold ceramic tiles, suddenly thankful for their cool temperature against my fiery skin.

I could feel a headache coming on, the familiar feeling of a giant cloud forming across my forehead. As if I needed anything else to add to my situation. I found a drawer underneath the sink, searching for the Advil or something. But there was nothing, I'd have to power through.

I pulled myself off the floor, grasping at the basin edge for balance. It was only then that I noticed the small mirror above the faucets, almost hidden because it was so dirty and covered with grime. Fingerprints, I suddenly thought. Using the corner of my tank, I wiped at a corner enough so I could see the reflection staring at me.

It took everything in me not to scream aloud. I'd been injured in my field of work before but it was nothing compared to the face that stared back at me. Even if I could only see a quarter of it, having to move my face to show in the small section of the mirror I'd cleared.

My face was a mess. The minimal amount of make-up I'd applied for last night was left in streaks along my cheeks. There were several scratches on my face, a few leading down to my neck. They were still raw, not yet scabbed over, the redness adding to the ugliness I saw in the reflection. And there was a line of crusted-over blood across my lower lip, apparently from my nostrils: a nosebleed.

There was black underneath my eyes too and I automatically wondered if it was from my make-up leftovers or the beginning of a black eye. I padded across my skin with my left index finger; tender to my touch. Definitely the start of a bruise.

I'm not a violent person. Sure, I worked with the police force and I've seen some violent criminals but I would only use that force if it was a necessity. It was exactly the same when it came to life outside of work though, the socializing: I know several people can become violent when they're near alcohol and drugs but not me. Unless I was dealing with some jack-ass.

I found myself walking out of the bathroom. The only other place to go was the bedroom though, I couldn't get in through the other doors. I peered around the door again, not knowing what I expected. The guy in the bed was dead, there was no way he was jumping up to scare me.

The room was lighter now so I could sort of see what I was doing. I needed to find my shoes, I needed to find the door and I needed to get out of here. Probably not the best decision for me to make but I didn't know what else to do.

I know I'd have help to deal with a dead body if I was still with the old unit. This new one… I don't think so. And I think I'm still in a probation period, I don't think I could tell them about this.

I was so bust thinking, not realizing I was walking around in circles. My eyes found my shoes under the bed and I pushed my feet into them, eager to escape from wherever the hell I was. If I had to, I would kick down one of those doors. Hopefully one of them would lead to outside, or give me a clue where to go.

My eyes scanned the floor again in the hope there was something there that belonged to me (like my phone, where's my phone?!) or a clue as to what happened the night before.

There was nothing, except… my jeans. That's why the bathroom tiles were so cold against my skin, it was bare apart from the tank. Oh god, where were my underwear? If I didn't have them on then where…? I didn't even want to think right now. I grabbed my jeans from the floor and stumbled into them, not taking my shoes off beforehand which made the whole thing slower.

As soon as I fastened the zipper, I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. My cell phone was in the usual place: in the back pocket. I held my thumb over the home button but there was no sign of it coming to life. A dead battery. Exactly what I needed in my situation.

I shoved it back into my jeans and retraced my steps to the door again. This time I headed right, the door that I thought looked different from the others. It might have been my imagination, or my deliriousness, but to me it looked the easiest to break. Almost as though it wasn't made of the same material.

I tried the door handle first, not expecting anything to come of it. I was already expecting them all to be locked, perhaps out of use. If the state of the bathroom was anything to go by, I was expecting the rest of the apartment to be deserted.

Whether I was being a weak ass bitch before or I didn't press hard enough but I almost took a step back when the door opened slightly. The door gave off a massive creak, and I should have probably taken this as a sign to not go any further.

 _This wasn't my property, I didn't know what was gonna be in this room. I didn't have a search warrant so I couldn't even give that excuse. Whatever happened now was on my own back._

I pushed the door open and stepped through the threshold. To my surprise (not) it was dark again and I fumbled around for a light switch. There wasn't one, but my fingers wouldn't pull away from the wall. There was something dotted around the wall, my fingers felt around the edges.

It felt like sheets of paper, or something, all in a line about my head height. I moved my grip to the top edge, they were secured in place with what felt like pins. Like pins you would use on a noticeboard- I was all too familiar with those. The paper should be easy enough to …. Aha, I got it. It came down as soon as I put some force in. I folded the corners until it was small enough to fit in my jeans and pushed it into the back pocket, the one adjacent to where my cell phone was.

If anything, it would be a clue to where I was. What I was doing here. I could look at it in the daylight.

When I reached the hallway again, I realized one of the door was letting through more light than the others. The way out? It was as though I could see the New York sunlight through the cracks of the top and bottom of the door. It was the strangest thing for this hallway to have no windows- mine at home were small, but it was amazing how much light they let in. The fact there were no windows here; there had to be a reason behind it. It was definitely on purpose.

I forced my body against it, using the strength I had left in me. Like the last one, the door seemed to talk to me with the amount it creaked but it didn't seem to budge. Shit. Maybe the light was deceiving me and it wasn't a way out at all. I traced the outline of the door (as far as I could reach) with my fingertips. There was a chain near the top. I slid it across to the other side and tried the door again. It moved more than the first time but still showed no signs of opening enough for me to slide through. That's all I needed- a small opening enough for me to escape.

I took a small step back and threw myself at the door again, not even concerned about the noise coming from both me and the inanimate object I was fighting against. My upper arm collided with the door and I wanted to scream: usually during a raid, I'd be protected. In both senses of the word: protected by my unit and protected by my uniform. Now all I had was a stupid tank top which was doing no protecting at all.

As soon as I thumped against it, I regretted it. Of course. The door might open _inwards_. If that was the case, I'd pushed and shoved against it for a stupid amount of time. Wasting that amount of time.

I grabbed against the handle again and pulled, the sunlight hit me strong and I took a step backwards to prevent the feeling of blindness consuming me. _The door was open_. I threw a hand to my forehead to shield my eyes from the brightness.

Apart from the sun, all I could see were the tops of the trees. Hundreds of them, it looked like. Towering over me and making a shadow over the path in front. Well, a sort of a path. It looked a hell of a lot like rubble, like it wasn't supposed to be a path at all.

I ran. With everything I had left in me and not even bothering to look back again, I ran. Probably _not_ the most conventional decision for a police officer but all I wanted to do was get away from the place.

Of course it felt like I was running for an eternity. My legs were beginning to feel like jello but there was no way I could stop. Surely I couldn't be in the middle of nowhere like I originally thought? There must be some sense of life around somewhere.

Then I found it: the familiar clearing. If I could just make a left at the next corner and then…. yes, the neighborhood I now called home. It was torture but my feet finally found the paving slabs leading up to my apartment block. And the newly familiar sound of the neighbor downstairs.

"Erica…" (I'd been living here for at least a month. I get that she's getting on in age but surely she could get my name right? I'd lost count of the amount of times I'd tried to tell her. It's _Erin._ Not that difficult.) "Where have you been? What's happened to you? You're…"

Shit. I forgot what monstrosity had looked back in me when I'd cleared a space in the mirror. I scrambled past her and made a bee-line for the staircase. Up to the third floor.

"I…uh, excuse me," I mumbled, only then realizing the unfamiliar huskiness of my voice. Alright, I had a throaty tone when I spoke most of the time, this was different. Of course I only realized now because I'd only been thinking in my head all morning, not speaking aloud. Weird. It was like my voice was strained and it hurt my throat, like I'd been screaming.

Had I been screaming?

I grabbed onto the stair rail and made it to the third floor. Crap. Obviously my apartment was locked and my house keys were … well, no idea. Probably back in the place I'd just escaped from.

There's one thing I love about myself and that is my initiative. I grinned internally and reached to the wall lamp to the side of my apartment door. It took a minute to fumble around before I eventually found the spare key and took it between my fingers.

I've never been so glad to see the inside of an apartment. It was cold, probably because I wasn't here last night to activate the heaters. And it was a mess, but hey that's to be expected. Me and getting ready in a pretty tidy manner do _not_ go together.

I kicked off my shoes and nearly ran to the bathroom. The police officer side of my brain was talking at a speed inside my head. _Don't shower, you might wash away evidence. Take photos of your face. Bag your clothes._

My own consciousness won. I _needed_ to show, fuck any evidence. I felt _dirty._

The bathroom became steamy quickly. I switched on the ceiling fan and stripped down to bare skin. I ran my fingers over my naked torso, over my navel and up to my chest. There was no physical abrasions but was it just my imagination that I felt sore? I needed to stop being a hypochondriac, jeez.

I pressed my fingertips against the cold tiles of my shower cubicle. I winced a little as the hot steamy water trickled down my skin, watching the remnants of blood from the cuts on my face swirl down into the plughole. I reached for the wash cloth and scrubbed until I felt like I'd torn a layer of skin away. It was only then that I could feel clean.

I relished in the feeling of the soft cotton towel against my body. I mopped away the drips threatening to fall onto the apartment floor and walked the ten steps to my bedroom. That was one of the good things about my apartment: you could get to a different room in a matter of milliseconds. It was small. It was confined and I felt secure.

The way I liked it to feel.

The alarm clock next to my bed told me it was just after 12:30 in the afternoon. Although I felt like I'd been awake for hours. I twisted my hair into a wet bun and pulled out yoga pants and a clean tank from the top drawer.

Then I remembered the worn clothes I'd left on the bathroom floor. I gathered them into a pile and was about to throw them into the wash basket when I remembered my cell phone. It would be no use to me at all if I put it through the washing machine.

I reached into the pocket to retrieve it, suddenly remembering something else as well.

What had I torn down from the wall in that room?

The piece of paper that I'd folded in half several times to fit in my back pocket. I found the opposite side of my jeans and reached for it, feeling the edges right away.

It was an off-white color, from what I could see but I'd folded it so that whatever was on the inside I couldn't see. I dropped my phone onto the bathroom worktop and used both hands to unravel it.

My stomach turned when the image came into view.

It was me. Not a public photograph though, that somebody could have taken from the internet or any of the police forums I was on. I stared closely.

Whoever was on the opposite side of the camera lens knew where I lived.

There I was, standing in the comfort of my bedroom and it looked like I was getting ready for a day at work. Below the image, only two words. And a time slot.

 _Erin Lindsay. 7:30am._

A shiver ran the course of my body. Come on, this couldn't mean anything! I was being a freaking paranoid ass again.

But then… I hadn't thought anybody knew where I lived yet. After all, I was still new- kinda. I lay low when I wasn't at work.

And they knew my _name_. The good thing about New York was that I could start afresh: nobody knew who I was, apart from those at the unit.

I swallowed. Hard. But it was impossible to get rid of the lump that had formed in my throat.

There had been a reason I'd ended up at that place I'd woken up in this morning. There was a reason why I had woken up next to a dead man. The two _had_ to be linked.

But what?

And what was I supposed to do about it? I couldn't tell the unit, I can only imagine what that conversation would be like. _Yeah, sorry boss I think I've got a stalker. By the way, I might have killed a man this weekend._

Crap. I'd walked away from a crime scene as well. Way to go, Detective. The only thing that seemed to be a good thing was that the apartment I'd left had looked pretty deserted. If things were gonna be in my favor, the scene there wasn't going to change.

Only thing is, that meant I have to go back there. Fuck.

I couldn't go alone. I could _not_ go alone.

If I couldn't tell the new unit, there was only one person I could call.

And he probably wasn't going to like it.

How long had it been since I'd spoken to him? A month? It was probably longer.

I ran through into my bedroom and dived for the charger.

Would he even still have my number saved? I shook that thought right away: of course he would, he wasn't like that.

I rubbed a hand against my temples as I counted down the minutes until my phone was gonna switch back on. Three..two..one..the screen flickered into life.

It suddenly occurred to me that there could be evidence on it of what happened last night. But part of me didn't want to look at it.

My finger hovered over the home button as I thought about what I was going to have to say. _Hello? How are you? Do you hate my guts for not calling sooner than now?_

I gulped as I scrolled through the contact list to his name. I hadn't even bared to look at it in so long and there it was, still there with the stupid emoji he'd put there himself. I quickly pressed the dial button before I let myself think twice about calling.

There was a time he would have done anything for me, I would do anything for him. Of course I still would, but I didn't know if anything had changed with him. Maybe it was kind of rude for me to spring something like this upon him.

The dull dialling tone rang into my ear. _Riiiiiiing. Riiiiiiing._

He's not going to answer. I'm gonna have to go back to that apartment and face it alone aren't I?

The dialling tone stopped and it was a minute before I could hear breathing. The sharp and deep intake of breath.

Damn, I should have rehearsed what I was going to say. At least that way this silence between us wouldn't be awkward. But it was.

"It's me," the words collapsed out of my mouth. What a stupid stupid thing to lead with, he would know it was me. Unless he'd deleted my number of course. "I know I have no business calling you but….I've….I can't tell anybody else. And you're the only person I can trust. I don't….I can't…..I need your help."

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	2. Chapter 2

_The lights, shining so brightly I could scarcely see.  
The music, so loud I could barely hear my own thoughts.  
A crowd of people around me, none I were familiar with.  
A hand around my neck…_

I woke up suddenly, sweating and shaking, still on top of the comforter that I can't remember falling asleep on. God, I needed the rest but the thoughts of the previous day were coming back to haunt me...and they'd woken me from slumber.

A shiver worked its way down the length of my spine but my body still felt frozen. Frozen with fear and apprehension, certainly not because I was cold.

I sat up abruptly when I heard a noise coming from somewhere else besides my bedroom. Did I drop off back to sleep, conjure up the noise in my sleep? My eyes drifted around the room at my familiar surroundings: the slight flutter of my curtains, the shadow on the wall from my closet, the various shades of color on the newly furnished walls…

There was definitely a noise, sounding more like a knocking this time round. I sat up and pulled my knees to under my chin, rocking for a second. There were only a few people who knew my new address, although I couldn't remember _exactly_ how many knew. I studied a specific point on the wall as I racked my brain.

The phone call. Last night. But… he couldn't be here already, could he?

I climbed off the bed and made my way to the closet, pulling free the first sweater I saw. It was on my upper body in a swift move and I pulled open the bedroom door.

The knocking came again, this time I realized it _was_ from the apartment door. At this point, I was fucking thankful for the peep hole that would allow me to see who was outside, before I let them in. If I let them in.

I stood on tiptoe- trust a freakin' peep hole to make me feel short- and closed one eye to get a close look at my guest. A shaky breath escaped my lungs as I realized it was him.

Him. Jay. Of course it was him.

But how could he be here already? What time did I make the call?

I swallowed, an unexpected lump lodging itself in my throat. I knew he would come if I called him, what had I been thinking?

The last time I'd seen Jay, we'd said goodbye. And I was fairly fucking sure that my heart was still in a million shards because of it.

I pressed my forehead against the cold hardness of the door. I didn't know what on earth to lead the conversation with but it was gonna have to be something. I opened the door in one swift movement.

His hand was paused in mid-air, as if he was going to attempt knocking again. I found myself looking down at his shoes before I could even contemplate making eye contact.

There was a small holdall accompanying his feet on the ground. It certainly looked like he'd packed in a hurry.

 _Of course he packed in a freakin' hurry, Erin. You only called a few hours ago._

He had on grey slacks and a black jacket, a navy baseball cap covering his brow. My eyes worked up their courage to look at him.

Oh God just seeing him again made my heart ache in a way I'd only ever felt once before.

And, just like the last time we'd seen each other, there was a way we could communicate without words. I pulled at the cuffs of my sweater so they were beyond where my hands were. I stepped further into the apartment, an invitation for him to come through the threshold.

I couldn't remember giving him my address, but I must have. Either that, or Voight had told him.

Jay picked up his belongings and half-stumbled into my hallway. He brushed past me, dangerously close, the particular aroma of his cologne taking me by pleasant surprise.

No sooner was he in the apartment than I heard the thud of his holdall hitting the carpet and suddenly I was pressed hard against the cold wall. I barely had a second to register his body pushed against my chest before his soft lips were together with my own.

Though it was barely a few seconds, there was something about the connection that electrified my insides. I felt his weight back away suddenly, before my body responded.

"I'm sorry," his first words were a whisper. "I shouldn't have done that."

The look on his face told me different. I watched as his eyes surveyed the area of my apartment and he reached for my hand, guiding me through to what he'd figured out was the lounge.

I mouthed a response to him, doubtful he'd heard. I allowed myself to be tugged along by him and collapsed onto my couch when I reached it.

Jay sat slowly beside me, and I noticed he didn't seem to be in a hurry to drop my hand. His attention seemed to turn to my face.

"Are you alright?" the most sincere look on his face. "Your face.." his mouth shut abruptly, but I knew what he was getting at. My attempt to clear up my face from scars and scratches, residues of make-up too, hadn't done anything to make me look better.

Unsure if it was seeing him again, why I'd called him or what was about to happen, I burst into tears. Both of my hands rushed to my face before I realized- he's seen me cry before. One of the only few people who has.

I nodded, bit down on my lower lip, then eventually shook my head. After all, he'd know if I was lying.

"Tell me," he spoke softly, in the familiar reassuring tone that he'd used on me before.

The shaking of my head was a constant, what could I even say to him anyway? _Yeah hi, ex love of my life, I think I've killed a man._ I gulped at the thought.

His hand moved to hover over my kneecap for a few seconds before he placed his palm gently on the material of my sweats. A simple move- but one that told me he wasn't planning on going anywhere.

"Erin," the lithe way my name rolled from his tongue hadn't changed, no matter how long I hadn't heard it for. "Tell me," he repeated.

I tore my eyes away from the floor to look at him, half wishing I hadn't. The way he was looking at me was gonna cause the truth to slip straight out of my mouth.

And it did. I gulped shaky breaths in between telling him from the beginning: waking up in a stranger's place yesterday morning, the stiffness of the male body next to me, the…

I watched his frozen face as I got up from the couch to retrieve the souvenir I'd taken from the stranger's place: the grainy photograph of me half-clothed with my name and a time slot underneath. I pushed this towards Jay, his somewhat natural facial expression turning into an unsure frown, the creases in his forehead bringing his eyebrows together.

He gripped the photograph between both hands and I sunk back into the couch. He didn't need to say anything for me to know what he was thinking: _what the fuck?_

"…then I ran away. I literally _ran_ away because I didn't," the words were just falling out of my mouth in a mess, and I was surprised he actually understood the garbage I was talking. ".. I couldn't stay there, I didn't know what else to do."

Jay's attention turned to me again when I'd finished talking. "Hey," that voice of his was so reassuring, even given I may have just confessed to murder, one that I couldn't remember. "Have you told anybody else?"

I shook my head, gulped. "You were the first person I thought to call," I shrugged.

He laughed then, a small chuckle that was fairly inappropriate given what we were discussing. "I guess that should feel like an honor," he replied. "Especially when we don't work together any more."

His response tore at something inside me. _We don't work together any more._ Not: 'we don't live together anymore' or 'we're not together anymore' or even 'we're not in the same city anymore'.

But he didn't seem to notice my reaction. Instead, his attention turned back to study the evidence I'd brought from that place yesterday. It might have just been his Adam's apple at a weird angle, or there was a lump in his throat.

"Did he," Jay started, his eyes dropping quickly to the floor. "Did he hurt you?"

"I'm not sure," I said truthfully, and he probably thought I was stupid. But I didn't know for sure: there was a dull ache all over my body but it could be from the bed I'd been sleeping on. From _whatever_ went down the night before.

Or from trying to put up a fight? Had he been trying to hurt me and my self-defence had kicked in?

Without realizing, I'd brought a hand up to my face and now I bit down on the nail of my thumb.

"I don't know," I reiterated.

As I looked down, I noticed Jay's hand curl into a fist and he pounded it silently on the material of his jeans. I guess he'd asked the question, but didn't really wanna hear the answer.

He sat forward on the couch, his elbows resting on the upper part of his legs. "And he was definitely dead when you left him?"

I nodded, but he was staring into blank space so I had to verbalize. "He wasn't breathing."

My answer registered with him and he got up, walking the length of the lounge in my new apartment. Half of the size of the one we shared together, so he reached the other end in five of his large strides. His arms folded in a posture across his chest, the muscles he'd obviously been working on peeking out from underneath the sleeves of his T-shirt.

"You need to get checked out," he said through gritted teeth, still pacing and leaving sneaker indents in the carpet. I watched his movements. "Because then you could claim self-defence.."

He was thinking like a police officer. He was thinking logically. What he suggested made sense. But I couldn't think of anything worse than somebody else examining me, probing me, asking me all sorts of questions I didn't want to answer.

"But of course, you won't do that," he continued, raising a hand to his temple and massaging the area above his ear. His answer told me how much he knew me, even though we hadn't spoken in so long. His answer told me what I'd recounted to him didn't affect what he thought of me.

Because that was the kind of guy Jay Halstead was. A police officer, a protector, a confidant. And seeing him again wasn't helping the feelings I'd spent so fucking long pretending didn't exist.

Jay came to a standstill at the doorframe that led into the kitchen, leading with one hand on the wood. "Then if what you're saying is true, you realize I'm gonna have to check it out, right?"

I gulped, though I knew it was coming. Returning to the scene of the crime was the right thing to do, there could be something I'd missed: a clue, as to what the hell went down there two nights ago. Still, that didn't make the prospect of returning there any easier, and I felt my heart thumping and hammering in my chest.

"I know," I uttered, walking slowly across the area of the lounge. My stomach did a few somersaults as I walked past where Jay was standing. I felt his eyes burning into the back of my mind as I walked into my bedroom to find sneakers and a jacket.

"What were you wearing?" His voice came from behind me as I searched through my closet. I turned slowly to find Jay's eyes taking a tour of what was my new bedroom. I didn't miss that he paid particular attention to the bed, his eyes going in circles around my comforter.

"I put them… in the laundry basket," I shrugged, throwing the first hooded sweatshirt I found over me.

He frowned, but looked intensely at me. "You brought that with you to New York?" his eyes widened in surprise.

Then I looked down. Jay's college sweatshirt with the familiar logo across the chest.

I must have packed it subconsciously, it having been in my closet in Chicago. I wrapped my arms around myself. "Yeah I guess I did," I shrugged. "If it's weird that I still have it-"

Jay leaned against the doorframe, crossing a foot in front of the other. "It's cool with me," he shrugged too. "Besides, you look better in it than I do."

I felt my face grow three shades darker, not used to taking compliments at the best of times but from him they always meant something extra.

"We should go," I broke the silence that had occurred between us.

"You remember how to get there?" He waited for me to leave the room and shut the door behind me.

 _Could I?_ A wash of uncertainty overcame me as I remembered the surge of adrenaline I'd used to race home. The lengthy strides I'd forced my legs to perform to get me away from that place.

"I think so," I reassured myself, hoping something in the scenery or whatever would trigger something along the way. But I'd done the last trip on foot, did that mean-

"I picked up a car from the airport," Jay said, turning to see if I was following him out of the apartment door. He closed that door too behind us, his hand hovering over the small of my back but not quite touching. "I figured, the way you called me, the urgency in your voice, maybe you wouldn't be up to driving."

His assumption proved accurate. In the passenger seat of his rental, I couldn't stop the up and down shakiness of my legs as they jumped involuntarily against where I was seated.

Jay's right hand moved from his own lap to mine, the small movement an attempt to reassure me that it was okay. Or it was gonna be okay. Which is what his face seemed to tell me.

One of my own hands rested atop his. Just slightly, it's not like I tried to link our fingers together or anything. Just a bid to let him know I was thankful he did so.

"Take a right here," I tried, with difficulty, to focus my attention back on what lay ahead.

Jay's hand slipped away to turn the steering wheel.

The familiar tops of the trees, and the clearing, that I'd ran through yesterday. We'd come closer in less time than I thought it would take. _How did it feel like I'd ran for an eternity when this place, it had taken us less than 20 minutes to get there by car._

"This is it?" he asks, and I can feel him studying my face intensely. The sharp scratches on my skin. The deep purple that was probably beginning to form under one eye. Fuck, I'm actually surprised he hasn't asked more questions.

"Erin, is this it?" he repeats himself when I don't answer. I forgot about the way he thinks: logically, like he's got to have an answer straight away.

"Yes," I can recall the place even though I was terrified the last time I'd seen these trees. Ran from that place-

Now it looks nothing more like a shed, well-hidden and back from the road, a sort of mini forest disguising it from view. It doesn't look any bigger than an outhouse.

Who am I kidding though? It's not the outside I've gotta be afraid of, it's the monstrosity inside: the dead guy, the creepy apartment room, the area I found my photograph.

Jay kills the engine and the familiar sound of him unclipping a seatbelt fills my ears. I can't turn towards him though, my eyes fixated on the building in front of me. Even before I'm out of the car, I can feel bile rising up at the back of my throat. It must be the context: shit, I practically _work_ with dead bodies.

Not ones I've killed myself though.

Before it's registered in my brain, I'm out of the car and Jay has a firm grip of my hand. I'm pretty fucking sure he can also feel the sweat that seems to be dripping from every inch of my body.

"Do you wanna wait here?" he offers, although his voice sounds like it's a million miles away.

 _No. No I don't want that._ That would be the only thing worse: standing out here, alone.

I shake my head firmly and he almost drags me to the entrance. My legs are heavy, as if they can sense where I'm directing them. But Jay isn't letting up: he's walking so fast towards the entrance and it's almost as though he _wants_ to get into the scene of the crime.

"Wait!" I screamed.

"What is it?" he says, before he even turns around. Then he does, and there's a mixture of concern and apprehension on his face. _Okay, that came out louder than I thought._

I pointed a finger to what I knew was the entrance. "I shut that," my voice was trembling, even though I willed it not to. "The door," this time, he turned in the direction I was pointing. "I ran away from here, but I shut that. I know it."

He knew what I was getting at: the door was slightly ajar. And he knew better than to argue with me, especially when I'm like this. Weird. On edge. _Scared._

I watched as he bent to his holster, taking out the gun he always carried with him. Gripping it tight in his other hand, watching our step as we continued towards the door. He pushed it and it gave a creak.

No movement and no sound. Then again, I didn't know what I was expecting. There was a dead man inside.

"Which way?" Jay whispered, still taking the lead as I fell behind his footfall. "Where is he?"

My eyes darted left and right, studying the walls, until they fell on the open door at the very back of the apartment. The bathroom, where I'd first seen the mess on my face. If that was the bathroom then-

"This one," I led the way, this time. A course of adrenaline pumped its way through my entire body. For I knew what was in there.

I'm first in the room. And it's nothing like the room I left yesterday. I gulped.

There's the thing I described as a bed, what I'd woken up on, what had caused the ache in my back. And there's elements I remember about the room: the broken blinds, the walls that were painted the same color as the door so it was almost impossible to get out if you were trapped.

And there was blood. A hell of a lot of blood.

But no body.

I'm lucky Jay still has a grip on me because I feel my legs buckle and he reaches quickly to grab me, steady my weight.

There's no body. But it's pretty obvious this has been a crime scene.

"He was…here," I choke, pointing towards the now-empty bed. Wherever the body has gone, it's clear there _was_ a body there. The mattress is indented: a deep shape that has sunken part of it. Not that you could see that of course, beneath the complete sheet of dried red. _Blood._

"You woke up...here?" he queries, his eyes are startlingly wide as he takes in the scene before him. "Where is he?" But he doesn't wait for an answer. Sensing I've found the ability to stand again, he moves away from me and I can hear him checking other rooms.

I'm glued to the spot, unable to move. It's a few minutes before I hear him call out.

"Erin?" he's at the other side of the apartment. I follow the sound of his voice, it's coming from an opposite room.

He's in the room where I found my photograph, and now that the room is light, I can see more features of it. Apparently I wasn't the only attraction: the wall is covered in photographs, there's more of me but there's other girls too.

"Do you know them?" he questions. He's standing so close I think I can feel his breath, hot and sticky.

I shake my head in response, narrowing my eyes to see if the pictures become clearer. They don't though and I was right, I haven't seen these other women before.

Without saying anything else, Jay tears down my pictures first then the rest.

He studies them, the most decent one though so he doesn't look pervy. "How did he get these?" The question is said under his breath so I'm unsure if he's directing it at me or he's asking himself. Trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

Then it's like something changes in him. He's crumpled the photos in half and is pulling me from the room. I let him.

It's only when we're sitting in his car, and he's locked the doors, that he gets them out again and smooths out the one of me over his steering wheel.

His finger jabs at not me, but the surroundings. "Isn't this your apartment?"

I gulp before I've even looked. But there it is: it's me through the window of my New York apartment. It's taken at an obscure angle but now Jay's said it and I know he's right.

And he was in my apartment for all of 40 minutes before we left, even he's able to recognize the bay window and grey wallpaper that I haven't even touched yet. That's from the last tenants; whoever was living in there before me.

"Whoever this is, he knows where you live."

He's stating the obvious, but it hits home more than I thought. I chew on my bottom lip.

"But he's dead," I reassure myself.

"Erin, there was no body in that apartment," he reminds me.

"No, he was definitely dead when I left!" I'm startled to be shouting at him, but I can't have him not believing me. "He wasn't breathing," I say, gentler this time, more than a whisper.

I can tell he wants to answer, something like _so he just disappeared?_ But he doesn't and I know it's for my benefit.

"So somebody else knew about this, and they've moved the body," he's back to thinking like a police officer. If he ever stopped…

There's nothing I can do except agree. There isn't another explanation.

I stare out of the window as he drives the route back to my apartment, a million thought swirling around in my mind. On top of them all though is the one that tells me I'm so thankful he's here right now. Because how was I supposed to do this alone?

"Erin?" his voice is quiet I almost don't hear it over the hum of the engine. "What are you going to do?"

And _that's_ the question of the century, isn't it? Because I'm not sure if he's referring to the incidents of today or about my job or what. But I get the impression he's gonna be there to help with the next move.

We're back at my apartment block before I've voiced an answer. He waits by the door as I fumble in my pocket for keys and thrust my weight against the main door. He does the same when I get to the third floor, the one that leads to where I live now.

It's Jay that notices a rustling on the carpet inside. I'm into the lounge when he walks in behind me, holding a white sheet, his face practically the same color.

"What is it?" I wanna know.

There's an eerie quiet into which he gulps and his hand meets mine so I take whatever it is from his grip. Only when I look myself do I join in with his look of horror.

Almost nothing on there. Nothing apart from ten words:

 **I KNOW WHAT YOU DID. I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE.**

And they'd added both of my names in an odd scrawl, how sweet of them. That makes it more personal.

Show me this piece of paper, I'd deem it a prank and throw it in the trash. But given where I woke up yesterday, what I did yesterday and where I had to go back to today I figured this wasn't just a stupid joke. I'm still looking down at the page, the words blurring my vision because I'm staring so hard, when Jay speaks up.

"Pack a bag," I get the sense it's almost like an order. But I know what he's getting at. If this is anything to do with what happened, and I'm betting _everything_ that it is, I can't stay in my apartment.

I'm nodding and he follows me to my bedroom. He leans against the doorframe while I search the closet for a holdall. It's similar to the one he brought himself and we'd used them together for vacation, hadn't we?

I wonder how long he'd been planning on staying. Well, we wouldn't be staying here now anyway…

I also wonder if he feels uncomfortable now as he watches me rooting through my drawers of clothes and underwear to pack in a hurry. There isn't anything else I wear much of outside of work than sweatshirts and yoga pants. Sweatshirts that probably once belonged to him. I think about it for a second and decide it's probably best to take clothes that belong to me. _Is it weird that your ex wears your clothes?_

I haven't the faintest idea on where he's planning to go, but it seems he has more of an idea than I do. I rush into the bathroom to pick up any essentials before shoving them in the holdall with my clothes. He's still keeping an eye on me while I zip up the contents, unplug a phone charger and shut the door behind us.

"Is there any friends you could crash with?" Jay asks, and it's then I realize maybe he had second thoughts. Of course he doesn't want to be dragged down in this mess.

But there isn't anywhere I could go, is there? It's barely been three months since I moved to New York, and the apartment that's mine was one of the first I set eyes on. The location and size were good for what I needed, even better for what I was paying.

He'd object though if I had wanted to stay. But it's saying something when I don't _want_ to stay in my own place. It would have to be a hotel, just for a few nights. Then I'd have to decide long-term.

I shrug in response to his question, I'm not 'friendly' enough with anybody in this state yet to be able to crash at their place. Maybe for a night, I guess, but even the thought of calling my boss or a partner asking to stay makes me feel uncomfortable.

I'm about to vocally respond, suggest a hotel is my best option when Jay seemed to have had a thought.

"My sister lives in New York," he suddenly comes out with, and that's enough to make me feel on edge again. I'd forgotten there were more Halstead's in the world, _my_ world used to revolve around only one.

Jay had mentioned his sister, Maya, before but we'd never met. In the beginning, I thought he wanted to keep our relationship separate from his family but he eventually told me it wasn't that at all.

 _My family are judgemental, Erin. It's better if we wait a while before you meet them._

And a while it had been. We'd been dating for over a year before I heard anything else about his family. But I'd never been given the opportunity to be in the same state as them, let alone the same room.

I shook my head. "You can't drag your family into this," I was adamant.

"I wouldn't be," he counteracted. "I could spill her a lie about us having vacation time and that's why we're up here."

I stared at him. "And she wouldn't think that was weird? We're up here _together_ but we're not _together_?"

Jay's intake of breath was so loud it was the only thing I heard. "She doesn't know," he shrugged. "I haven't told her yet."

My turn to gulp. "Still," I protested. "We can't just turn up at her place expecting to stay."

He thought for a second. "Then we book into a hotel tonight. I'll call her in the morning."

 **Please Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

"You're sure you're good?" Jay stood opposite me in the dimly lit hallway of the hotel. Since we'd got here, he'd pulled both holdalls along to outside our adjacent hotel rooms. Which is where we were standing now.

I nodded, only half-lying. But it was reassuring to know I wasn't alone… he was right along the hall.

And the unknown hotel would be safer than an apartment known to a stranger, right?

"Yeah," I said quickly, to reassure him I heard him talking. He'd been doing that since we met with the girl at the hotel reception. The one who'd suddenly plastered a weird smile on her face when we requested separate rooms.

Since then, he talked _none stop_. Probably his attempt to keep my mind from the reality…

"Erin," his soft voice brought me back from losing track of my thoughts. His hand still hovered over my holdall as he dropped it in front of me. Then he fumbled in the pocket of his jeans for his own key card, his eyes drifting to the slot before he looked at mine. "If you need anything-"

The thought of being alone, when he'd been here with me, suddenly shook me. I slotted my own key in until the green light illuminated. The room itself lit up, and my eyes fell on the couch. "How about a nightcap?" I suggested, noticing something that certainly resembled a mini bar.

The familiar sound of his chuckle filled my ears before he turned around. I swear he also shook his head.

"Is that the best idea?" he said, though he didn't sound convinced.

"Humor me," I shrugged, pulling my holdall close and holding the door open behind me. I checked my watch. "It's still early."

"You always were a bad influence Erin Lindsay," he shrugged, but followed me in anyway. I stayed on the spot, waiting until we were both in the room and bolted the door. Locked. Happy there was an extra deadbolt. It was the first hotel we'd come across, but it felt secure.

Which is what I needed more than anything right now.

As soon as he was in my room for the night though, Jay seemed to make himself at home. He threw his own overnight bag onto the floor and crashed down into the couch with a thud.

His eyes darted between his belongings and what looked like the mini bar. Then I heard him take a deep breath.

"How about we use the time wisely?" his tone had turned cryptic. I didn't like it.

His eyes fixed on his holdall and mine joined them. Now I thought about it, it was pretty big in comparison to my own. Not to mention it looked at _least_ twice as heavy as mine.

"Sit," he said it almost like an order. I collapsed onto the bed, grateful he'd said so because I didn't know how much longer I'd be able to stand. The mattress sunk down with my force.

I sat cross-legged and pulled a pillow over my lap, watching him as he leaned forward to retrieve what he'd dropped on the floor. It was big but Jay managed to balance it on his knee while he unzipped the holdall. The first thing I recognized him pull free was his laptop, the top of the range Mac-book in the grey cover I'd bought for him. A smile tugged at one corner of my mouth: _he still used it._

That feeling soon disappeared when I noticed the familiar components of what he pulled free next. A small collection of items I knew too well: an instruction manual, a swab kit, a sterile container, tubes for samples…

 _A rape kit._

"Jay…" I started.

He offered me a sympathetic grimace. "When you called," he began. "I didn't have a clue in hell what to expect. But I knew it would bad." He shuffled his position, as if he was uncomfortable. Probably with the conversation. I chewed on my lip as he played with the packaging, twirling the plastic around in his fingers. You would think he didn't know what to do with it, when in reality Jay was in contact with this type of stuff every day. Maybe it was different because it was _me_.

"You told me you woke up and you couldn't remember what happened the night before.." he paused, and I nodded my answer for him to continue. "This could give us the truth."

I swung my legs in front of me so they dangled from the bed. It was far from the carpet though, they didn't touch the ground. Still biting on that lip, I swallowed. Well, I knew he was right.

"But I've showered," the realization dawned on me and my eyes shot up to meet his.

"I figured you might have," his eyes narrowed and his right hand patted against the space on the couch next to him. He ripped open one of the small plastic packages with his teeth. "Sit," he summoned.

He'd opened the nail-pick kit. The one designed to find traces beneath fingernails. Traces of _what_ exactly I didn't want to think about. A shiver ran through the entirety of my body as he dug beneath my nail tips, one by one, with the softest touch of his hands.

I'd watched him do this before. Once or twice in a post-mortem. That sent another shiver through me.

Jay noticed the second one. "Are you cold?"

I figured the goose-bump feeling was more from my thoughts than it was the temperature in the room. "I'm fine," I watched him continue.

"You say that a lot," the next sentence was sudden and I watched on as he scraped the contents- or what he'd managed to get- from beneath my nails into a plastic dish. "That _I'm fine_ bullshit," he emphasized.

"I have to tell myself that I'm fine Jay," I replied. "Because the alternative doesn't bare thinking about."

His mouth clamped closed. And it stayed closed, like he didn't know what to say. Instead of speaking, he reached for another component of the rape kit. The collection container that required me to use the bathroom.

"It could help," he uttered, pushing the container into my palm. I wrapped my fingers reluctantly around it and shuffled along to the bathroom adjoining my room for the night.

I shut the door behind me, though didn't feel the need to lock it. It wasn't like he was gonna come in. Carefully, I unscrewed the cap and backed against the cold porcelain. A small shriek escaped me, it was colder than I'd expected. Once I was done though, I replaced the cap and left it to stand on the bathroom shelf, somewhat repulsed by my own pee.

However weird this situation felt, I reminded myself that Jay was only trying to help. I recovered myself with my sweats and washed my hands at the nearby faucet. It was only then that I allowed myself a glance in the mirror.

Looking now, I was surprised Jay hadn't had more of a reaction when he turned up at the apartment. The starches still showered shades of red across my cheekbones and the dark purple beneath my eye showed no signs of leaving. It hadn't even occurred to me to wear make-up, an attempt to hide these monstrosities, so God knows the thoughts of whoever I'd passed outside, or what the girl on the desk thought had happened.

Backing away, I sighed and picked up the sample from where I'd rested it. If I was a minute longer, he would probably be wondering what I was up to.

When I returned to him, Jay was frowning at the instruction manual. Which was weird, considering how much I thought he knew about this type of stuff. His brow was crinkling, like it always did when he was thinking hard about something.

His eyes met mine when he saw me, and they gleamed, but that positive expression didn't meet the rest of his face.

"I wish I could tell you that was the worst bit," his face now showed a contorted grimace, something that told me I wasn't gonna like what he was about to hit me with.

"What do you mean?" I thought better than to shove the pee sample back to him, instead I bagged it myself in the bigger container he'd taken from his holdall. I hid it from his sight, wrapping it away and sealing the box. Then my attention turned back to him, my arms folded themselves across my chest.

He moved the kit to the space beside him on the couch so the lower half of his body was free. He was fiddling with something else between his fingers, although I couldn't work out what it was.

"Sometimes," he exhaled, standing up and looking down to me. Suddenly I felt small. "Sometimes, these things work better than pee samples." He held up what looked like a Q-tip, but I knew it wasn't a Q-tip. It was slimmer, longer in length I think.

"No," my head shook from side to side of its own accord. "No I can't."

"Yes you can," he countered, his attempt at reassurance. "If you need the instructions-"

"I know how a swab kit works, Jay," I snapped, immediately regretting how harsh my voice sounded. "Sorry," I said straight away. "I just-"

"I get it," he sympathized and I was glad he didn't intend to hold my sudden temper against me.

I grimaced at the floor. It didn't matter how much we'd been through together, as partners or otherwise, this was a rough subject.

"Go," he pushed the rod into my hand and ushered my towards the bathroom again. This time, I was more reluctant but did as I was told all the same. Shutting the door again, I leaned against it and slid down until I was sitting on the tiles. I twirled the rod around in my fingers, pretending it was something different to what it actually was. The prospect of shoving it inside myself made me want to gag.

My bottom lashes moistened, but I fought hard to not let myself cry.

It would be over the quicker I'd done it. I pulled at the material of my slacks so they wormed down my legs. Biting hard on my lower lip, I held my breath until it was over. It was only when I pulled it free from inside me that I let myself breathe out.

The thought of the mini bar was appealing to me right about now. I quickly dressed again and reached for the packaging Jay had removed from the rod. Shoving it inside, I reunited it with the first sample I'd taken, leaving them both inside the box. Shut the lid with a thud. _Out of sight and out of mind._

Jay was concentrating again, this time on his computer screen. I couldn't see what he was looking at, but he stared intently until he sensed my movements. I stood for a minute in front of him.

He looked startled, dropping his laptop onto the couch and standing so he towered a head above me.

"You're bleeding," he pointed to my lip, the one I must have broken the skin of in the bathroom. With a swift movement of his thumb, he'd dabbed away the spot of red I'd made appear. His hand lingered in the air for a minute before he turned back to his belongings and grabbed something small.

"Almost done," his grin was childish, and for a brief moment I forgot about the seriousness of the situation. "Open your mouth."

It was my turn to frown. "I- um, what?" Not having any idea of his plans, I obliged anyway and stared him down as he swabbed around my mouth with something that- this time- resembled a Q-tip.

"That's it," he nodded, wrapping up the mouth swab immediately so as to not contaminate it.

I ran my tongue around the area he'd just invaded. There was a taste of something metallic, although I wasn't sure if I was just imagining it.

"You know," I began. "That last swab might not prove effective," I paused and looked at his confusion. "If it's the last person I've been in contact with, who's DNA would be in there… that's yours."

I watched his expression falter as he remembered his sudden movement upon entering my apartment. When he'd dropped his forgotten-about holdall and kissed me with the warmth and need of the past four months we'd been apart.

"Yeah, I…uh…" his inability to form a sentence was a new thing for me: he _always_ had something to say. "Well you never know," he argued. I knew he was trying to prove a point, that there would be a chance of evidence from the mouth swab. But I knew different.

The other swabs, yes. But since _that_ night, I'd drank stuff, I'd brushed my teeth and gums thoroughly and Jay's tongue had been down my throat- as brief as it was, it happened.. Any DNA I may have had from the crime scene, there was no chance it was still there.

"So, that nightcap," I spoke suddenly because I didn't need to the situation to be awkward. "I wonder what this fridge has to offer," I walked towards it, opening the door of it.

A small chuckle from behind me. "I wouldn't get your hopes up," I heard. "This is hardly five star," he added.

"Ha!" Ignoring him, I pulled the nips free from their hiding place and offered him one. "Do they charge extra for this?"

"I don't care if they do," he clinked the small glasses together and drained his to the bottom. Watched as I did the same. "Is there anything stronger in there?"

I shook my head and watched as his eyes darted to the room service menu laying by the TV stand. He was reading it before my eyes could register that he'd moved.

"Who knew a place like this would do room service?" he spoke aloud, but I was unsure if the question was directed at me or if he was thinking aloud.

"This is New York Jay," I answered him anyway. "The tourist capital of the world."

"Fair," he shrugged. "What are you having?"

"I don't recall inviting you to stay for more than one," I smirked, throwing myself down on the couch he'd jumped from. When he didn't answer right away, I thought he might retreat to his own room. _Not yet._ "Do they have Bourbon?"

His grin was fair answer. Although he did turn away, and I swore he muttered something that sounded like _a girl after my own heart_.

The thought of the words made me gulp. He hadn't said them for certain, maybe I'd imagined it. Because it was something he always used to say when things were the way they used to be.

Because I _had_ been. I literally had been. A. Girl. After. His. Heart.

I watched from my resting place as he phoned through to downstairs. Once he'd returned the handset, his form occupied the other side of the couch.

"Actually, I could eat," his stomach rumbled on cue. "Could you eat?"

A good question, if ever he asked one. When was the last time I actually had something to eat?

"I could eat," I shrugged and before the words had left my mouth he was at the handset again, speaking into the microphone. "Hi, could I get two burritos with that Bourbon?"

My own stomach growled at the mention of food. Before I knew it, Jay was back next to me.

"Sorry I should have checked," he shuffled position to get comfortable. "You haven't suddenly become allergic to burritos have you?"

I laughed, it came straight from my stomach and it felt good to do so even given the enormity of the situation. "Funnily enough, I don't think I have. Although I'm pretty sure even a plate full of gruel wouldn't even go a miss right now," I added.

"Gross," Jay's grimace was childlike, he stuck out his tongue to show his feelings. "You definitely don't want that."

I nodded, knowing he had actually been forced to eat such crap in the past. A burrito wasn't even gonna touch the sides of my mouth.

Jay's arm stretched along the length of the couch back, his fingers drumming against the material. I could feel his eyes on me, suddenly conscious of how close we were. It was intimate, it was dangerous, it was…

A knock at the door sent him springing from the couch. He returned armed with their dinner and a full bottle of whiskey. He paused by the mini bar again to pick up two glasses before lifting the first plate into my hands.

I waited, watched as he lifted his own and delved in through the wrapper. I picked at the foil with my fingers, finally unveiling the tortilla wrap.

It definitely had that "first meal in days" feeling and I could have eaten another one. I washed it away with the liquid calories of the Bourbon.

"Erin," Jay wiped his mouth clean from crumbs and threw his packaging back onto the tray. "Have you checked your cell phone?"

I looked at him, dazed for a moment, because I didn't know what he was getting at. "My cell phone?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "You know, for text messages. Photos. Anything that could help us?"

 _Us._ He'd included himself in the situation I'd gotten myself into. Jay somehow made me feel bad for not always thinking logically like him, like a police officer.

Actually I hadn't, and I think the thing had been dead ever since I called him. The thought hadn't even occurred to me that there could be clues to what happened that night on there.

I grabbed for my holdall, realizing as soon as I'd thrown in on the bed that I'd packed in a hurry and forgotten the charger.

"Shit," I cursed and looked towards the ceiling. "I didn't pack the charger. It's outta juice," I grabbed it free from its hiding place and tossed it onto the comforter.

"I got it," clearly, Jay hadn't packed in a hurry. Or he had, and he just knew the essentials. Clearly, unlike yours truly. He carefully removed the swabbing kit from the top of his holdall and dove deeper, his fingers searching around for the prongs of the charger. He stopped, without finding it.

"Better idea," he gestured a hand towards me, I think for my cell phone. "You're still on the cloud, right?"

I nodded. We'd never done the couple thing of sharing a cloud- but he still kept me logged into his Mac-book. If I could just type in the password-

"We're in," Jay seemed excited at the prospect, whether it was because he was expecting to find something or if it was instead a look into the life I'd been living without him up here. I sat close to him again on the couch, expecting him to cruise quickly through the content he'd found from my cloud.

Instead his finger was hesitant to move the navigation button, so I did it instead. I headed straight for the place where my photos were stored.

The last thing I remembered was being out with people from the FBI department, my new work colleagues. I hadn't been there long enough for any of them to make any particular impression on me, so I mingled with a few. There were ten of us all together, from what I could remember.

I clicked back to the last photographs of the storage cloud. There were, in fact, several shots and some embarrassing selfies from the first bar. At first glance, they didn't seem to tell me anything I didn't know.

"Who are these guys?" Jay's tone was cynical, and I knew why. In the photographs, it _did_ admittedly look like I was having a good time. With new people. With a new team.

I sucked in a breath, trying with everything in me to remember the names and roles of the other women in the photos. Because they were, all women. In the foreground anyway.

"These two are from the finance division," I recalled, having interrogated them with stupid questions, wanting to know the do's-and-don'ts of my new role. I think one of the images had captured the older of the two rolling her eyes.

Jay nodded, and I could see him mentally taking down a note: _finance_. He would find them in the finance department if he wanted to.

"And those other two…" I racked my brains, at attempt to recall what we'd been talking about. "Yes," it came to me in a moment of clarity. "They're from the HR branch, so they were the ones asking _me_ questions," I added.

"HR branch," he repeated, the hand furthest away from me reaching to scratch at his stubble. I listened to the rough sound as skin connected with beard. "So what did you tell them?"

The magic of seeing the images somehow allowed me to relive the first part of the night. I told him what I remembered. "Honestly, I don't think it was anything they didn't already know. The HR sector, they know everything about you before you're employed," I bit my tongue.

The photographs got progressively worse, but they didn't offer any clues.

I leaned in close to the screen, listening to Jay's faint giggle behind me. He was laughing but all I wanted to do was cringe.

"Wait!" I don't know why I shouted so loud, when it was me working the navigator and not him. Suddenly I backed away from the keyboard and brought my knees up underneath my chin.

My impulsive reaction had Jay turning towards me in a millisecond. "What is it?" the concern in his voice was at its peak.

"It's him," I said it quietly, almost as though the picture could hear me.

"What do you mean?" Jay's eyes flitted between me and his Mac-book screen, struggling to see what I could see.

I tapped my index finger against the left corner of his screen. "Zoom."

He obliged, and I watched his eyes widen as he finally saw what I could see. The foreground of the photograph showed me with the two girls from Finance, all grinning towards whoever was taking the photograph. Upon Jay's instruction to zoom, the older guy in the background came into view. Using tools I wouldn't have a clue where to start with, Jay was able to un-pixelate the image so it wasn't a wasted blur. When the dark eyes and greying hair came into the foreground, I shielded my eyes with a fist.

"You mean," he gulped.

"That's him," I gulped harder. "That's the guy I woke up next to."

"Are you sure?" it was Jay's turn to narrow his eyes towards the screen. "I mean, he looks pretty-"

"It's him!" I exclaimed, worried that he wasn't gonna believe me. My knees wrangled from beneath my chin, and suddenly I was pacing.

Next minute, he'd slammed shut the laptop and stood in front of me to stop my pacing. My arms were folded across my chest but he pulled me close quickly, wrapping both arms around my frame.

"Erin," he said into my hair. "Erin, he's dead." I nodded beneath him. "Remember? He's _dead_."

 _He's dead_. But just the image of him in my mind again…

I pulled away, bringing my arms up to rest against his biceps. Growing biceps.

"You're okay," one of his hands tucked my hair behind an ear. "I'm sorry I pushed you,"

He felt guilty for trying to solve this. I shook my head. "Don't apologize. I _dragged_ you into this mess," I pulled away from him, afraid that if I didn't I never would.

"Happy to be dragged," Jay shrugged his shoulders, looking far from anybody who was pissed about this situation. "You can't do this on your own."

"I know," with that, we were in agreement. "Thank you," I added quietly.

"Don't," he stopped me, this time stepping to close the gap between us. His lips lingered slightly apart, only inches from me for a minute. A minute that felt like an hour. Then he spoke.

"You should rest," he sighed. A hand ran through his brown strands of hair. "We can work on this again in the morning."

I agreed with him again: I was ready to collapse onto the bed in front of me. I stood for a moment and watched him gather together his belongings into his holdall. Once it was zipped up, he faced me.

"You need anything," he pointed towards the door. "I'm just there."

I started my way towards the bathroom, wanting to pee and brush my teeth and whatever, but stopped. "Can you give it, ten minutes?" I asked.

I felt secure in this hotel, sure. But the thought of falling asleep in a room alone somewhat frightened me.

He didn't ask for a reasoning to my questioning. Instead, he fell back onto the couch, one of his knees crossing over the other one. "Sure," the one word reassurance.

I tumbled into the bathroom to compose myself. Stripped myself of the sweats I'd worn for the day (that felt like it had existed for a week) and into the pyjamas I'd packed. Not the most conventional ones, but the ones that were on top of my sleepwear drawer: a soft purple silk that only felt good when I had freshly shaved legs. Which I didn't.

I left my clothes in a pile in the bathroom, reckoning I could tidy them away in the morning. The one thing I desired more than anything right now was sleep.

My fingers drifted across the top of the comforter before I crawled between the sheets. I rearranged the hotel's pillows into something that resembled a comfortable position before I let myself lay down.

Jay was quiet, his focus on the floor though I knew he could see me from the corner of his eye. He reached for the light-switch across from him, leaving the only light illuminating the room coming from the lamp at my bedside.

"I'm being stupid," I threw my bare arms against the sheet shielding me. "You can go, I'll be fine."

"I think I'll give it five," he reassured, looking at the watch he wore on his left wrist.

I lay on my side still facing him, but we remained in a comfortable silence. One that wasn't awkward, and that somehow surprised me. I didn't look up much, but knew he was there.

My eyelids started to droop and I knew sleep was coming. I felt myself, drifting…

 _Bunny? What was she doing in my dream?_

 _Things were overlapping and things weren't making sense. I'd taken this job to protect my mother, though I hadn't seen or heard from the bitch in as long as I'd been up here._

 _But something was telling me…_

 _Now she was shouting my name. No, not her. Somebody else._

"Erin! Erin, wake up damn it!"

I shot up suddenly, too suddenly, my forehead connecting with something that felt the same.

"Shit!" Jay backed away, his hand going for where I'd head-butted him. His eyes were closed.

"Oh God," my own hands shot to my mouth. One of them rested against his forearm, for he was now sitting on my bed. "I'm sorry!"

His face contorted, nose wrinkling in pain but there was something else in his expression. Concern?

The digital timer by the TV told me it was 2:11am.

"What are you still doing here?" I rubbed my eyes, trying to see more than his dark silhouette.

"Must have fallen asleep," he spoke through gritted teeth so it was kinda a grumble. "More to the point, are you okay?"

I frowned, okay? I'd been sleeping but…

"You're sweating," he said, helping me notice the perspiration that was indeed wetting my brow, coloring my cheeks. "And you were shouting," he gulped.

"Shouting?"

"Bunny." His one word answer, swiftly bringing back the nightmare I'd fallen into in my slumber.

I screwed my face into a ball, shaking my head from side to side, an attempt to rid my brain of the thoughts that were circling in my mind.

"What is it?" he queried.

"That night.. I, not all of it but… I remember."

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